Along The Watchtower
by fairygypsy
Summary: Sequel to Crush. The prince who is to wake the sleeping lady is already happily married, and is unknowingly appointed to the job by his wife’s magical sister whose sole wish is to catch a husband of her own.
1. Default Chapter

She hadn't thought she could feel. She never had before. She had really only ever felt a tingling of concern over her mother. Concern that her mother would interfere one too many times, not concern because of love. No, love was definitely an emotion beyond Princess Rene of Darwin, former heir of the royal throne. Or, as the princess surely thought, it was an emotion that was below her.

Yet today, there was emotion. And how could there not be?! As of today, she was the _former _heir to the royal throne. Now the coveted position belonged to her long lost sister Princess Elaina of Darwin, or, as she was to be called from this day forward, Princess Elaina of Caraway, wife to Prince Jonathan of Caraway, future King of said kingdom.

Today, all of the kingdoms, far and wide, knew that the eldest daughter of Richard, King of Darwin, still lived, and that it was she, and not the frosty beauty who was four years her sister's junior who was to have future control of their kingdom. With a mouth set even harder than usual, and a spine that could not get any straighter, the Princess checked in on her sleeping mother. Rene had had to keep a strict watch on the woman for half a year, afraid that the revelation of Elaina's existence would prove too much for their overzealous mother who had hated her first born since conception. Queen Tabitha was sleeping a peaceful and unnaturally calm sleep, a sleep induced by herbs that were hand picked by the princess. The Queen would not be awake on her eldest daughter's wedding day, the consequences that might ensue from such a happening would not be pretty, and Rene did not feel up to cleaning up any messes her mother would most assuredly make.

Besides, Rene had made a promise to her elder sister.

The princess closed the door to her lavish bedchamber and slung herself across a golden brocaded couch. Her auburn tinted hair fell gracefully about her shoulders and a scowl marred the perfection of her exquisite face, icy blue eyes stared languidly up at the ceiling. Yet her mind was racing. Her plans had fallen apart. Strange, but the one thing that might have ruined her self made plans had been diverted, and the one thing she had never even considered as being a deterent, a disaster really, had happened, had unremarkably, and unceremoniously happened. To put it quite simply, Princess Rene was a bit upset. However, she never allowed herself to show emotion, to be ill used by the consuming and ruining qualtities of passion. Passion of any kind was abhorrent to her.

But she could not deny feeling, could it be… jealous? Was she jealous of her the woman who was to marry a most handsome man today? A most handsome man who loved her with all his heart. Rene almost laughed at the thought. Of course that was not it! She was simply feeling upset at the demise of her own carefully laid plans. Elaina had had no plans, and her life had simply fallen into place, while Rene's had deteriorated into something she despised. She'd become nothing more than a nurse, than a servant to her demented mother while Elaina was the celebrated and loved ruler of all. No, it did not sit well with Rene. After all, Elaina did not have powers like her younger sister. She did not have the realistic sensibilities! She did not have Rene's beauty, her poise, her desire for power!

Rene flung herself up off the sofa and pushed her way past a fading tapestry to the side of her giant and luscious bed. The tapestry was the only adornment in the room that did not look expensive, new, opulent. It was very simple, woven from earthy colors: beiges, tans, white and blacks. The design was unintelligible, a faded scene of chaos in tattered ruins. Though the looker would never be able to discern it's picture, there was a twisted, wicked feeling to it. It was very old, and almost steeped in the tainted souls of its past owners.

Rene brushed her way past it as if it were no more than a flimsy strip of castaway cloth from the seamstress's shop. The room the tapestry hid was dark, but, with just a flick of her wrist, Rene quickly had the small circular space lit by hundreds of tiny candles. The room was bare, gray stone, and held little furniture. There was a low, wooden table like structure jutting out from the walls and encircled the entire room. Candle sconces held flickering sticks of wax at unpatterned intervals.

Rene walked purposefully to the center of the room and dropped to a sitting position as gracefully as if she were a dancer doing some choreographed move. Her eyes were closed, her face still. She waved one delicate hand in front of her face and the air in front of her started to swirl. The darkness of the hidden room took on color and light, dimension and definition, and the forms of two elegant personages stood out amongst a throng of richly dressed people. Rene knew these people, she knew this scene…

_"You are my wife, gypsy," whispered the handsome prince. He was dressed in the stark and contrasting colors of black and white and a simple gold circlet lay upon his neatly combed and slicked mass of dark flattened curls. "Finally."_

_The new princess laughed softly at the pride and exasperation in her new husband's voice, and also at the way his curls, which did not wish to be straightened and slicked back atop his head, kept curling rebelliously around the nape of his neck and the sides of his temple. She wondered if it would be proper for a wife to smooth one of those wayward curls of his in public. She did not, however, and opted instead, to tease her beloved. "Were you impatient sir? That added 'finally' sounded as if you were ungrateful for the extended period of courtship that allowed us to become better acquainted."_

_"Better acquainted! You were my best friend before you became my fiancé, and added to that, dear lady, I felt I knew you from the minute we met. Count your lucky stars that your nasty temper that day did not expose to me your true nature, which I'm quite sure will be revealed on the morrow. As soon as we awake, you will be absolutely horrid to me, and will never be nice again until you want something, as is the way with all women." The Prince had a sparkle in his eye and a teasing quality to his voice that reminded his wife that he was just as good at teasing as she was. Should she declare defeat in this little game? _

_"Jon," she whispered as she reached her arms up around his neck and pulled her mouth oh so close to his, "do not tease me so. You know it is untrue." _

_Prince Jon smiled down at his blushing bride, wondering why she was acting so, usually she was fiery, matching his teasing banter word for word, never surrendering. He smiled down at her and pulled her into his embrace, resting his chin on her shoulder. He searched over her back for the three men he suspected had something to do with his bride's unusual behavior, and saw them, conspiring together in a group. The King of Caraway sat upon his throne with his most trusted advisor on his right, and the resident Princess Tutor on his left. Prince Jon frowned and pulled out of his wife's embrace. Frowning still, posed her a question: "Shall I cause a scandalous scene, or shall you?" She dropped a small yet scorching kiss on the corner of her husband's mouth before letting the most mischievous of grins creep onto her face._

Rene banished the scene before her with another wave of her hand. This time, emotion did show on her face. It raged in her eyes and pulled her eyebrows together in a scowl that would put her ancient, decrepit nursemaid Hildy to shame. The furious princess stood up and walked to a large book that lay on the curved table that encircled the room. She was about to force the book open and scream the spell within at the top of her lungs, when her eyes went fearful, the scowl unkitted itself from her eyebrows, and her lips unclenched. She would not let herself lose control. She had almost made a mistake, done something her mother would have done. And Queen Tabitha's actions were certainly not something to aspire to.

The Death Spell. How common, how unimaginative. It would have indeed been a blunder. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose slowly higher on the princess's smooth forehead as she thoughtfully thumbed through the pages of the old book. She stopped after five pages had been turned, ten spells discarded, and tapped her finger reflectively on the left hand page. This might be interesting, thought she. It did not scream danger and destruction, that was not what she wanted. No, it was subtle, and simple, and cunning, and would help her gain her own ends. She did not now know why she had not thought of it before! That was the clincher right there. It's attraction simply did not lie in the devestation it would cause, yet in it's utter usefulness to herself.

She did not wish to deny her sister her happiness. It was simply that she had a blindingly strong attraction to getting what she wanted. And if Princess Elaina of Caraway, future queen of that realm and Darwin, wife of the heir to the Darwinian throne, the woman who was simply a storyteller to herself and the gypsy enchantress Elaine to her new husband could provide herself as a tool to the attainment Rene's ultimate goals by unwittingly sacrificing her own happiness… then why not?

Rene stepped to the center of the candlelit room, flickering shadows casting wavering light and dark across her features. Closing her almost glowing blue eyes, she opened her perfectly chiseled mouth and began to chant.

Bodies change and souls expire 

_Memory fades and beauty dies._

_One man honors love and right_

_Another values naught._

_One man always stands to fight_

_The other's sword is bought._

_Steal both from out the night,_

_Till in my web they're caught._

_Place them where there is no light_

_Leave them to each other's lot._

_Bodies change and souls expire_

_Memory fades and beauty dies._

Elaine fell asleep in the comforting protection of her husband's arms. He had nuzzled her hair and kissed her ear until she had fallen into a peaceful dreamless sleep, that for the first time in ages, had not been plagued by nightmares of tiny flame haired women, cold and damp enchanted chambers behind the stinging drops of a waterfall, and solitary, desolate fields of grass where vibrant green and blue met in an unearthly and unsettling manner, and where the wind whispered her greatest fears and showed her the most threatening of visions.

Instinctively, she knew something was wrong. The arm that should be around her waist was not there; the hand that should have been stroking her side was also gone. She could not feel Jon's presence, she could not hear his heart beat, she could not feel his soft breath on the back of her neck. Of course, she had never before experienced any of this in the morning, for she had never awakened in a husband's bed before, yet she had known that was how it should have been.

And it was not. No, something was wrong.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and rolled off of her stomach and on to her back. Turning her head to the right, she spied her husband's sleeping form all the way on the other side of the bed.

But it was not her husband. Her husband was a tall man, and this man stretched out was not even taller than herself. Her husband had a very nice build, broad shoulders and a muscular back, the man whose back faced her now was broad all right, but in an entirely different manner. The arms at his sides were not lean like her husbands, but two fat sausage rolls. This man's skin was white and pasty where Prince Jon's had been smooth and tanned.

This man had yellow hair. Jon did not have yellow hair!

It took no time at all for Elaine to make these observations, and when, instantaneously, she had, she shot straight out of the bed, pulling the covers with her, and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Almost immediately, two things happened. The first was that the man who had been sharing Elaine's bed shot up and gave her and then his surroundings a confused and sweeping look, and secondly, a flustered servant ran into the room.

"My lady! Princess! What is the matter?" cried the chambermaid.

All Elaine could do was to point at the man in her bed and scream at the top of her lungs. The man in her bed looked utterly bewildered. "Him," she finally uttered, pointing accusingly toward the bed. "Him!"

"What about him Princess Elaina?"

"Where is my husband?! And who is this! As you can see, there is a strange man in my bed! I would think it obvious what the matter is! Call the guard! We must find Prince Jon! We must have this bastard arrested this instant!" Elaine clutched the sheet to her chest and yelled wildly at the maid. The man in the bed looked worriedly from one woman to the other, trying to decide who posed the most threat to him. He was pretty sure it was the beautiful woman wrapped in the sheet who was staring lethally at him, as if he had killed the person she most loved in the world. Had he? He really couldn't remember anything that well. His deduction about Elaine posing the most threat proved true.

"My Princess," spoke the maid calmingly, with a touch of pity in her eyes, "the man in your bed is your husband. No one need find him. He is not lost. That," she said, pointing toward the man in the bed, "is Prince Jon."

As the confusion in the eyes of the man lifted and knowledge replaced it, Elaine's bewildered eyes sparked for only an instant before turning cloudy. Her face drained of all color and slowly, and as gracefully as her sister had sunk to the stony floor of her hidden chamber, Elaine sunk to the ground, fragile eyelids fluttering down over haunted dark orbs.

We should have known, thought the chambermaid, her mother was mad too.

The room had grown cold. Remembering, he reached over to grab the only source of warmth he wished to have. His outstretched fingers rammed right into a very cold, very hard wall.

Prince Jon's eyes flew open. His wife was nowhere to be found. Indeed, he was not even in his own bed. The protection he had known all his life of the gleaming white castle walls of his home were gone as well. In their place, was a musty, cold, dank room. A quick survey illuminated that he was in a large dinning room of some sort. The high walls were covered in armor and weaponry and where the walls met the ceiling, cobwebs hung in abundance.

Though his wife was nowhere to be found, Prince Jon was not alone. Hardly. For littering the great dinning hall were twenty or so pallets, each with a man atop them. To the Prince's disgust, some of the makeshift beds were not only occupied by what the prince knew to be the soldiers for some duke or king, but a disgraced lady. Yet from the low sounds emanating from these pallets, Jon was quite sure that the women found no shame in being disgraced.

Wherever he was, he sent a prayer of thanks to God that his Elaine was not here, that she was safe in bed, untouched by whatever evil magic was at work this night.

A man to the Prince's right interrupted his thoughts. "Cassius, would you lay back down and go to sleep? If it's a woman your lookin' for, they're all hired for the night and you know that." The owner of the rough voice shoved a rough palm into Prince Jon's chest, pushing him back down onto the cold stone floor and into the rank stench of the blanket covering him.

The Prince shot right back up, almost leaping to his feet, but thinking better of causing a stir in a room full of soldiers, no matter how indisposed they might very well be. "I am not this Cassius! You sir, will tell me where I am this very instant!" His voice was sharp and commanding, but the old man to his right only laughed.

"Don't kid young Cass. After the beating we got tonight no one's in the mood for it, least of all me. Ya hear? Be still and sleep."

Cass. He was not this Cassius. He knew he was not. He was Prince Jon, and he needed to leave, to find his way back home. But… he did feel tired, and his muscles were sore. Somehow he knew if he looked, there would be a deep cut over his right shoulder and his left eye felt swollen shut. It hurt to breath. Were his ribs broken then? He could almost remember the beating he had received that afternoon. Two men, both large and carrying weapons.

No! He screamed in his mind. He had been married that afternoon; he had been kissed, not pounded, whispered to lovingly, not beaten as bad verbally as he felt his body told him he had been physically. He had spent his wedding night in the arms of a woman who loved him, and whom he loved desperately back, not all alone in the folds of this rotten blanket.

He forced everything from his mind but the memory of her face, her smile, her eyes, and hands and lips and… and her, as she had been when she had given herself to him. With these images, he dropped heavily into sleep.


	2. ch 2

The King had been sleeping quite peacefully when the door to his chamber hit the wall with a loud bang. This sleep shattering noise was quickly followed by another noise that was sure to inhibit sleep. He shot straight up in bed and attempted to focus his blurry vision on the frantic maid standing at the end of his bed, attempted to discern what it was she was frantically trying to relate to him. He caught only certain words, Princess, mad, and fainted were among the most prominent. And thankfully so, for they clicked a note of warning in his alcohol and sleep weakened mind and brought his attention to control, focusing solely on the young lady in front of him.

"Slow down," he said calmly and authoritatively, "slow down and tell me again what has happened to the Princess.

"She's gone mad sire," said the maid very, very slowly. She did not understand the king. She had been talking slow to begin with. "I heard her screaming from the Prince's chamber. A horrible scream. I thought she was being murdered. When I entered the chamber she stood pushed up against the back wall clutching the sheet around her, and pointing accusingly at your son… her husband. She was afraid of him sire, and kept yelling that he was not her husband, that he was not Prince Jon."

"Well… was he? Is that my son?"

"Of course it is your majesty! I saw him with my own two eyes. Blonde hair, a big man, blue eyes. It was your son as surely as I am my mother's daughter."

The king might have laughed, for he had blessed the girl's birth, and had known her mother as well, but this situation sat heavy upon him. He had grown to love and respect his daughter in law and did not wish to think that the madness that grew in her mother's heart grew in the daughter's as well. "Where is she now Celia? And how has my son reacted to all this?"

"It is hard to tell your highness. The Princess fainted… and your son simply looked at her as if he did not know her, then walked out of the room and into the dressing chambers. Sire, I fear something is gravely wrong. I saw them yesterday. I've seen them for the past six months. Everyone in this castle knows how much the one loves the other. They were meant for each other, and yet… today. You must come at once."

"Yes, of course. Who is tending to the Princess? Did you fetch the castle physician?"

The maid's eyes froze, realizing that she had perhaps been quite hasty in her actions, and might have thought them through a bit more. Without a word, she ran from the room as fast as her two short legs would take her.

The King cursed under his breath. Apparently, his daughter in law was still lying in an unconscious puddle on her bedroom floor. Quickly throwing some pants and a shirt on, and discarding his nightshirt, he ran down the hallway to the bedchamber that the Prince now shared with his bride.

The Prince was nowhere to be seen, but he was certainly to be heard. He had found his valet and was being dressed and prepared for the day. Strange. The King had hired the valet with false hope, knowing his son never let anyone help him do things he could certainly do himself. The King had thought the man could pack and do menial chores for his son so that the young husband would have more time with his lovely wife. Apparently not.

His lovely wife lay crumpled on the floor of the bedroom, close to the cold stonewall. The king knelt down and put his hand beneath the back of her neck and her knees, making sure the sheet was properly placed at all times. When he lay her down across the rumpled bed and pulled his hands from the back of her head, his fingers were glazed in dark red stains. She had hit her head on the wall when she had fell.

And his son had left to get dressed. Checking his growing rage at the young prince, the king checked Elaina's breathing. Finding it steady, even if her face was somewhat pale, he stayed beside her until Garmond the physician showed up just moment later. He was a tall, tall man, with long, steely gray hair that he held back with a thin piece of leather. He had a kindness in his brown eyes and about his thin lips that the king had always appreciated. This was the man the king hoped would birth and care for his grandchildren.

His grandchildren. There would be none if his fool of a son was not careful and attentive to his wife! Knowing that Elaine was in good hands, the king stormed through the door that led to the dressing room that adjoined the bedroom to the sitting room in the prince and princess's chambers.

His fat excuse for a son stood happily in front of a mirror, admiring the most elegant suit of clothes the king had ever seen Jon wear.

"Jonathan Jacob Mathew Rembarto! Do you realize that your wife is in your chambers unconscious, bleeding, and quite possibly very ill?!"

Jon turned around and looked at his father with confusion in his eyes. The King could have sworn that he was just about to ask who he was. But he did not. "Father…" it was almost questioning, but the tone of his voice soon changed. "She was being absurd, flinging accusations that I am not her husband! Do you wish me to praise her for such betrayal?" The foreign blue eyes flashed. Blue eyes. His son did have blue eyes. Whom had he gotten them from? The late queen… did she have blue eyes? It didn't matter; his son obviously did have blue eyes- and blonde hair- and always had.

"Betrayal! She is sick Jonathan! And you left her lying in the floor, bleeding!"

"Oh, so she was bleeding. I heard her head hit the wall, but I did not figure it would harm her. She seems to have a hard head to go along with her stubborn and barbaric personality."

"You are a disgrace! What has come over you! You love her! Or you did. Maybe she was right; maybe you are not my son. You are most certainly not her husband." The King's voice raged with unleashed fury. He had never been disappointed in his heir. The boy had always been a man to make his father proud. But now…

Fear danced in the pale weak eyes of the man Elaine knew could not be her husband. Desperation glinted there with waves of maliciousness. That single fact should have told the king that the man before him was an imposter, if the King's mind was not being so stubborn in insisting that this blonde coward was his son. Confused and suddenly very tired, the king turned and stormed from the room. He turned in the doorway, and stared down the imposter Prince. "I will have Elaine's things removed from your chambers. She will be moving back into her own until you can find it in your heart to be a real husband. Till you can find the courage to be a real man."

Cassius had never before worn silk. He had never before been perfumed and primped to within an inch of his life. His long blonde hair had been washed with scented oils and brushed to shinning and now hung flowing above his shoulders. The clothes fit him impeccably, and the maid, the king, and all the wedding guests referred to him as Prince Jon. So, he assumed, he must be that man. The thing was, Cassius had been quite sure that his name was… well… Cassius. He had been quite sure that he had been hired by the nefarious Duke of Wellington as a guard and assassin. But, when one falls asleep on a hard, smelly blanket in a room full of men, and then wakes up rolling in silks and cushions with a soft woman by your side (even if she does jump from the bed screaming at you) one does not question it. Cassius sure as hell wasn't going to question it.

He sat at the head of the table next to a short courtier. The man was a part of the wedding party that was to take place over the next month. He nudged Cassius in the ribs before asking, "Where's that delicious bride of yours Jonathan? If I had known she was still alive, I'd've had a go at her myself. But I guess you're the lucky one who discovered her. Who would've known that there were two Princesses of Darwin!"

"Princess?" asked Cassius unconsciously. "All Princesses have golden hair, princes too if I remember right. Elaina most definitely does not."

The young courtier looked at the prince curiously. The man was acting strange. He remembered the prince from yesterday: a besotted, serious man who never let his bride leave his side. Today the prince was frivolous, and much different in so many ways. Was it his hair? Had the prince trimmed it? Parted it on a different side? No, that was not it. But the confused young courtier just could not put his finger on it.

Elaine walked into the breakfast hall, her head held high, her back ram rod straight. Cassius's eyes followed her all the way across the long room. She was not beautiful, he had decided. The dark curling hair that had spilled over her shoulders that morning was now pulled back tight in a simple braided bun at the nape of her neck. A single silver ribbon wound its way around the top of her head to weave in and out of the dark strands of the braid. Her dark eyes sparked with danger and challenge. She wore a simple gown of deep green velvet that swirled about her feet, breaking the terse and rigid purposefulness of her steps. "I believe we were speaking of princesses without golden hair. I did not believe they existed before I met my wife," stated Cassius, covering the flaw he had made earlier.

"Of course," laughed the courtier, "there have only been three royal children born with dark countenances. Of course we all know that that happened because the traditional ruling houses of Darwin and Caraway became corrupt, and the two heros, King Jacob and King Richard defeated them and were established as the rulers themselves."

Cassius had heard this tale. The tale of the only two kingdoms not ruled by the a descendant of the great emperor who once ruled the kingdoms as a whole. He had never thought, however, that princes and princesses had golden features because they all essential came from the same blood line. It made sense now though. "So, the two Princesses are two of the dark haired royals. But you said there were three. I seem to have forgotten who the other one is… you know… I don't spend much time worrying about such things. It's beneath me."

The courtier rolled his eyes at the Prince's snobbish words, thinking that the Prince had seemed so humble and approachable the day before. "Yes, there is but one more dark complexioned ruler. A Prince… I think. But… I can't put my finger on a name. Or a face… strangely. I could have sworn I knew them all…" the courtier's words trailed off as he stared blankly into space, trying with all his brainpower to put a face and a name with story he was telling the Prince. Prince Jonathan. Why did that seem to fit there? He looked at the prince who most assuredly did not fit the dark haired and dark eyed description. Looking closely the courtier could only wonder how in the world the eldest princess of Darwin came to married to such an arrogant pig of a man.

Elaine would spare no look for the man whom everyone thought was her husband. How could they not see?

The maid had murmured something about madness, insanity. Elaine knew it was not so. She knew the man she had fallen asleep with and the man she had woken up with were as different as night and day, and not just physically. If her Jon had been here, she would not be walking across the breakfast hall, watching him from the corner of her as he flirted with golden haired princesses and bellowed at bad jokes at the top of his lungs. She would still be in bed with the man who loved her, or perhaps riding together across some field, or dreaming lazily beneath a tree. She would not be watching his shoving food into his mouth so fast she was sure there would soon be none left for weeks to come.

She was not hungry. She had other tasks and matters on her mind. She swept the black cloak she had draped across her left arm around her shoulders and pulled up the hood as she stepped out the large front doors of the White Castle of Caraway. In no time, she had the young stable hand busily at work readying her horse, his only payment one of her smiles, which he found rather strained today.

The horse was pure white, a gift to her from Prince Jon. A granddaughter of his horse Wilson, he had told her as he lifted her gently onto the mare's back.

"Maya," she whispered to the mare, "something is wrong." As she swung her leg over the horse's strong back, she grumbled aloud to anyone who might be listening, "I thoroughly dislike magic sometimes."

She sped off into the forest in the general direction of the village. She and Jon had spent much of the last six months riding. Since most of her time had been spent at princess lessons with that pain of a tutor Lord Rogers, she hadn't spent much time with her betrothed. That is, until Prince Jon and Elaine reminded the red headed tutor that the future queen barely knew how to ride, was rather afraid of it actually, a result of a riding accident and a runaway horse. So he became her tutor for two hours everyday.

Elaine smiled as she remembered it.

And then was almost toppled off her horse.

"Elaine!" yelled the man who her horse was charging straight towards. She stopped the horse right as the man jumped out of its path.

"Damian! Are you all right?" she jumped off of her horse and ran towards the old wizard. "I was just coming to see you! Oh I'm so glad to see you. You have no idea!" She threw her arms around the old man, who happened to be frowning, and put her face in his shoulder, finally bursting into the tears she had stubbornly pushed to the side all day long.

Damian pushed her to arm's length and used two fingers to push her face up to look at him. "You should not be out and about. King Jacob sent me a message, I was just on my way to the castle to see you."

"I know what he's told you. He's told you I've gone mad. But I haven't Damian, I know I haven't. Surely you know I haven't, don't you Damian?" There was something in his eyes, in the down-turned corners of his mouth that made her question him.

"He told me, young girl, that you fainted, and had a head injury." Damian lifted his other hand to feel the back of her head. "There is a definite bump, and it still bleeds," he exclaimed as he pulled his discolored hand away from her hair. "Come, I must take you back to the castle."

Elaine pushed out of his commanding embrace and took several steps away from him. "Damian! You must listen to me! I don't care about the bump on my head! I don't care about the dizziness or the headache, or about the blood. That will heal. I care about the pain here," she said as she beat the center of her chest with a tightened fist. "This hurts Damian. It bleeds. I must find Jon. There is some evil magic at work here, there must be, and you are the only one I can think of to help. Please Damian… please." The girl sunk to the leaf strewn forest floor in a puddle of tears and gasps. Locks of her dark hair had escaped the well-worn bun at the nape of her neck and hung lifelessly about her pale and tear stained face.

Damian stooped beside her, rubbing her back and pulled her to stand against him. Just as his walking stick had eased the pain in her leg six months ago, so to the support he gave her this day eased the pain in her soul. "I will listen to you Elaine, but you must go back with me to the castle. Once you are well, and safe, I will listen to all you have to say. I know you are not insane my dear. We will fix whatever is the problem."

She tried to speak, to argue the matter, to scream maybe, but he silenced her and helped her onto Maya. As he led the horse out of the forest and back toward the castle, he stilled her mind and pushed her into an unnatural sleep he knew she would not easily forgive him for.

The dreams were worse this time. They were inescapable because she could not will herself to wake. She was trapped once again in a never-ending sleep. Only this dungeon was a devoid of all light, all sound, all feelings except for those of darkness. That's what the place was: darkness.

And then there was an opening, a rent in the darkness that surrounded her. It was not a crack of light, merely a strand of lighter black, a dark gray that offered dim and bleak hope. But hope nonetheless.

Then her eyes were open. She sat up immediately, eyes wide, and pushed all the way back against the head board of the great bed. Damian stood in front of her, as did King Jacob and Garmond the castle physician. She stared Damian down. "You will listen to me. I am in bed, I am safe, and though I've not been well for the dreams you knew would plague me while I slept, I am well enough now with daylight streaming in through the window. As well as someone can be with three fearsome men scowling down as them." She scowled back in return. The king and Damian looked toward Garmond for an assessment of the princess's health.

"Well," said he, "she sounds as if she could battle an army, though I would not recommend it. A day or two of bed rest and her confusion in certain matters should be cleared away." Noticing that the scowl on Elaine's face seemed to deepen at his words, he made a hasty retreat. "I have other duties to attend to your majesty, and really, Damian is more suited to deal with matters regarding the princess's health. She is in his capable hands."

As he closed the door behind him, Damian pulled up two chairs to the side of Elaine's bed. Both he and King Jacob sat, the king taking his daughter in law's hand and rubbing a thumb reassuringly over the back of it. "Tell us what ails you sweetling," he cooed as if talking to a frightened child.

"I did indeed promise to listen Elaine, and if you are ready to talk, I will surely give you my full attention." Elaine saw worry and love in the eyes of the two aged men, and gained faith in her story by the way the king's eyes reminded her of her Jon's. She was not crazed. Her real husband would look similar to the man before her in twenty years time.

"I went to sleep with you son, with Jon, and woke up to a stranger. Surely you two can see it. Surely you two feel it as I do, though everyone else seems to be under a blasted spell of some sort, surely you two, who know the prince as well as I, know that that man is not he!"

"He is… different today," spoke the king truthfully if somewhat hesitantly, "than he has been. But… being married can change a man."

"Change a man who has risked his life to save me into a man who went to get dressed after I fainted from shock and hit my head on the wall? No, marriage cannot change a man in that way."

"He did what?" exclaimed Damian. "Why would the boy do such a thing? No, I cannot believe that he would, not knowing the way he feels for her!" he said to the king.

"Nor could I believe it Damian. But I saw it for myself. Poor Elaina lying in a mess on the floor, her head bleeding, and my ignorant block of a son primping in front of his mirror smelling of roses. But… that was my son standing there."

"No!" yelled Elaine, "Do you not know what your own son looks like? He is tall and handsome with the deepest black eyes and the softest black hair. He has a devilish smile and strong arms. He looks nothing like that swine that is parading as Prince Jon, who everyone for some unbelievable reason believes is Prince Jon!"

Both men exchanged worried looks. Damian pulled King Jacob from his chair and out of the room, leaving Elaine to contemplate their rudeness and secret words.

"She is indeed sick Damian. She has deluded herself into thinking that Jonathan is a man he is most certainly not. Why, Jon has never been strong a day in his life. Although, until today, I thought him a good man, a decent man. But that is not important in her matter. What is to be done Damian? She refuses to believe he is her husband, and her husband refuses to acknowledge her as a wife."

"What do you mean?"

"I asked him to come to her, to show her that he is the man she loves, and who loves her. But he won't. He said that he would much rather be flirting with the pretty little blonde countess whose husband was so old as to die any moment. I ask you, does that sound like Jonathan?"

"No, indeed it does not. And if this is the way he is treating his bride, I can easily understand why she has deluded herself. Send Jon to me in Elaine's room. I wish to speak with him, and for them to speak together. Leave us now, I will talk to her alone."

The king turned to walk away but Damian stopped him. "Oh, and tell him I will not take no for an answer. If the boy knows what is good for him, he'll be here immediately." The king nodded his agreement, making up his mind to drag his son to the side of his sick wife if he was forced to.

"So," began Elaine as Damian reentered the room, "what is to be the verdict. Am I insane?"

"You've always had a strong mind Elaine. That is why I cannot believe so readily that you have sunken into madness. Answer me this question. Is there anything other than appearance that signifies to you that this is not Jon?"

"Yes," she said quickly and confidently. "Since the moment we met, our souls… clicked. They knew each other. They sparked off one another. I fought it of course, I feared it, but it was undeniably there. And the dreams. They've plagued me ever since I was under the sleep enchantment for three whole days. The only thing that has ever given me peace at night is lying by his side. I slept wonderfully last night, the best sleep I've had since that little adventure half a year ago.

"But this morning was different. A cold feeling, a dream seeping into the warm protection of my mind, awaked me. I forced myself awake and knew before I even opened my eyes that things were wrong. And then opening my eyes was like opening them to a living nightmare. The feeling that descends upon me while in my dreams has stolen into waking life ever since this morning. It will not lessen, it will not let up. If that were truly Jon, it would be gone, but it is not."

Damian could feel the weight of her words, the truthfulness. He knew that there were often terrible side effects to such enchantments as the immortal princess had used on Elaine, and that often, the only relief from them came in the form of the person or thing that had saved the victim from the enchantment. In Elaine's case, it was Prince Jon.

Damian's thoughts were interrupted by the door being slung carelessly back on its hinges. "I do hope this does not take up time. I'm awfully busy the rest of the day," drawled the lazy voice of the imposter prince.

Damian swung her head around to glimpse the man who stood leaning against the doorframe. He was short and pudgy with long blonde hair and narrow, watery blue eyes that held a look of bored disdain in them. It was the same Prince Jon as always. Wasn't it? Yes, demanded a voice in his head, it was. But another voice, just as persistent argued that it was indeed and obviously not Prince Jon. Prince or no, the indifferent look in his eyes did not sit well with the old wizard. "It is you wife boy!"

"Oh, yes, is she with child yet? Or will I have to bed her again tonight? Really, can you know this soon? Shouldn't we wait a month or so before pushing us together so quickly once again?"

"YOU LEAVE THIS ROOM THIS INSTANT! AND DO NOT RETURN."

The man left, scurrying down the hall as fast as his short little legs would carry him. Damian turned to Elaine who stood fuming atop her bed. Though it might have been a comical sight had the situation not been so dire, Damian did not laugh. He gently begged her to reclaim a sitting position, then sat back in his own chair to gather his thoughts. "You are right Elaine. He is not Prince Jon. It is strange, so many memories are confused," he said while shaking his head back and forth and rubbing a hand over his eyebrows. "I have the distinct memory that Prince Jon is a good and noble man, and that you two love each other dearly. But I've also this strong conviction, I wouldn't call it memory, that that man as was seen in the doorway was the Prince! But I know you! And knowing you, I know you would never love such a man as that. The more I think about it, the more my head aches. Something must be done, but what? I wish I could remember the man you say is the real prince. Something in me is trying to, but it's been locked up. I can feel it now. Yes… great magic indeed. Evil magic. But why?"

"I don't know Damian. But I must find out. And if this man is here, then where is my prince? You will help me Damian, won't you?"

"Of course, of course, but where to begin?"

"Well, let's start with this question. If everyone else believes this man to be my prince, then why don't I? Why was the magic not able to touch my memory?" Elaine crossed her legs Indian style under her gown and pushed emotions aside in favor of cold logic.

"Very astute question my dear. Very good. Well, perhaps because of what you are," answered Damian cryptically.

"I'm afraid that will need some explanation."

"We'll, what are you?" asked the old man matter of factly.

"I am a princess. I am Elaine, Elaina. I am Prince Jon's wife. But not that Prince Jon," she ended hastily.

"No, no. Not who are you… what are you."

Elaine's eyebrows pulled together in great confusion as she pondered the intricate differences of such a question. But then her eyes lit up with recognition.

"I am a storyteller," she spoke quietly.

"Yes, dear girl, you are. And a talented one at that. You've always been able to sense magic haven't you, because you are familiar with it from your stories?"

"Yes, I have. I sensed the magic in the enchantress's forest, and the magic about my sister."

"Your sister has magic?" asked an astounded Damian.

"Yes, quite a bit too I believe. But that is not important at the moment Damian. Are you saying that I'm able to sense the magic being done here, and that by sensing it, I was able to avoid it?"

"Something like that. Also, storytellers have a nose for the truth. For all stories, no matter how fantastical, contain some grain of truth. Stories also tell of true human emotion and landscape. Yes, storytellers are very much truth tellers. You see the truth in this situation better than anyone else can because you are a storyteller."

"It almost sounds illogical Damian," said Elaine, one eyebrow raised high above the other.

"Yes, but sometimes the harder to believe something is, the more indication that it is indeed true." Damian smiled, and Elaine almost felt like laughing. They had not figured out a single clue to the puzzle but somehow a weight was lifted from her shoulders. She was not crazy.


	3. ch 3

A/N:

Ok, here's the deal. They don't allow much for a summary, and mine is really bad. But, I wrote this story, which is on fanfiction in the fairytale section, called Crush. It one of my favorites, and I've always planned to write a sequel. Well, since Crush got such great reviews, and my reviewers requested a sequel, and I now have the time (finally!), I'm writing the sequel. If you're reading this as a stand alone, know that Princess Elaina grew up as Elaine. Her mother was going to kill her because of a prophecy so her father, the king of Darwin hid her away with a witch. Elaine eventually meets Prince Jon of caraway, while working as a storyteller in that town, and they become friends. Elaine is put under an enchantment of sleep (sleeping beauty style, only darker). There is a threat of elaine's beautiful princess sister Rene marrying Prince Jon, though Jon loves Elaine of course, and mayhem and misunderstanding ensues of course. I'd not be upset if you read it… anyway, Damian is kinda like Elaine's fairy god father, and is prince jon's mentor. I think knowing all this should get ya through this story. If not, ask questions, or you can always read Crush… ok, back to the deal I promised at the first, I love writing these characters, these stories, but the fervor to write them fades if there are no reviews. If you are reading this, and like it, hate it, think it could be improved… I want to know! I'm an aspiring author who wishes one day to be published and will need all the help I can get. I know this is a long author's note. So sorry, just thought you might need some clarification on some things. Now, to the story…

"Cassius," spoke a very tall, very burly man with more hair than any man should really have. Actually, he yelled the name. Rationally, Prince Jon had no idea who the hairy man was speaking to, er, yelling at. So, he rolled back over on his hard, smelly pallet, and attempted to slip back into sleep. But it was not to be.

He was ripped from the hard smelliness by his shirtfront and thrown up against a cold wall. His eyes were wide open now, and resting on the grizzled face of the hairy man. Chipped and rotting teeth snarled close to the prince's nose and he wriggled it back in disgust at the smell that shot from the man's open mouth. "Cassius you worthless whelp of a boy! Get your lazy arse off that bed! The Princess is comin' today, we're to keep watch." The hairy man let Prince Jon's shirt go and the prince fell down in a slump. Finding his legs, he stood and threw his shoulders back, trying to regain a modicum of dignity. He surveyed his surroundings and remembered awakening in this place last night.

He had thought he was suffering from one of his wife's nightmares, but, as it turned out, he was not. This was reality, hard, cold, foul-smelling reality.

And this man was calling him Cassius.

And it seemed right. But he was not Cassius. He was Jon… Prince Jon, he thought. Wasn't he? He knew he was Jon, but the Prince part seemed fuzzy. The only thing that was truly clear in his mind was the fact that he had a wife. She was tall and strong and beautiful. She was fiery and stubborn… and he loved her. And miracle of all miracles, she loved him too.

But where was she? Why was he here, in this great hall, with these soldiers, of which he seemed to be too. Did they share a hut, some cottage, in a small village outside of this castle? No, he could not see her in a hut. A cottage yes, strangely, a clean, pristine, vibrantly colored cottage, that grew out of the forest like it belonged there, where every season seemed perfect, immaculate.

Yet he saw her in a castle too. Vaguely. She wore simple yet elegant gowns and he could not touch her for all the eyes that constantly watched them.

He saw her in his minds eye in a virginal white dress. She was smiling a smile that was just for him and her dark curly hair was scattered with pearls. She preferred pearls to diamonds. He could remember that detail, but no other.

He saw her in their bed. It was a rich, sumptuous bed, hung all around by deep red curtains and accentuated on all corners by carved mahogany posts. The bedclothes were light cream with shots of gold, rumpled, and she lay sweetly in his arms as they fell asleep together.

Then he woke up alone, and unsure of himself. He was Prince Jon. He was! He yelled this in his head, wishing he could yell it aloud. Instead, he pulled a shirt of chain mail that lay near his pallet over his head and followed the line of soldiers out the door and onto a very cold parapet. His breath puffed in small clouds in front of him and one of the other soldiers, a shorter man with a heavy sword attached to his hip, and a hairline that was rigidly receding, slapped Prince Jon on the back and spoke quietly and quickly.

"Are you a fool Cassius? To walk out of those walls without your sword and bow and arrows is death. You know this! Or you should by now. Go back, I will cover for you, but hurry."

There was only a slight confused pause as Prince Jon stared at this new found savior, before he turned on his booted heel and ran back into the great hall where he had slept. He went back to the pile of blankets he had slept in and did indeed find a sword and bow and arrows. They were rough and showed signs that they had been much used. He slung the arrows and bow around his shoulder, and clasped the sword at his hips. Pulling the sword from it's scabbard, he noticed that it was much lighter than the swords he had used when… when what? When he had been a prince? Wasn't he still a prince? Or was he Cassius? NO! Rebelled his mind, he was not Cassius, he could not be. Cassius, would have gripped this sword with ease, feeling it heavy and reliable in his hand. The sword was light and unpredictable to Prince Jon. There was no comforting weight to it, nothing to swing with. This was not his sword, but it most certainly belonged to whoever this Cassius fellow was…

A horrible thought hit Jon as he walked toward the door, putting the sword back into its halter. If he had awakened in Cassius' bed, had Cassius awakened in his bed… with his wife?

Had she known that the man in her bed was not her husband? Or, like the men here believed he was Cassius, had she believed that Cassius was her Prince Jon?

It was possible; though Jon did not wish to consider it, it was very possible. The chill of the outside air hit his face once more as he rushed along the parapet, following the sound of the men's whispered words. It took a moment to recognize the short balding man who had reminded him to get the weapons. Sliding silently up beside the man, he dipped down and murmured a thank you.

"You ain't missed nothin' yet, Cassius. Captain Brady is still discussing our daily procedures with Lord Wellington. I doubt you'll be sittin out here with the rest of us though. Sent on one of those _special _assignments no doubt. They get more frequent by the day," said the man. He turned his head to look at the man he believed to be Cassius, and he _really _looked at him. "You're different somehow today. You haven't made one single ugly jeer or quip. You ok Cass?"

"I… I'm a little out of sorts today. This is going to sound strange, but humor me. What might I call you? You name, what is your name?"

"A little out of sorts indeed! I don't believe I've ever heard you utter one full sentence without it containing some insult or vulgar word! And you've never cared to know no one's name before!" The man narrowed his eyes to tiny suspicious slits. "It can't be that you took too much drink last night. You take more than you should every night. _I'm _not your special assignment… are I?"

Jon did not know how to reply to this. Special assignments? No, he most certainly was not this man Cassius, nor would he want to be by the sound of it. "Just know this," spoke Jon, "from this day forward, I am a different man. And if you tell me your name… I will tell you mine."

The man laughed as silently as he could. Silence was necessary when Duke Wellington was addressing Captain Brady. "I know your name boy! Every one knows the feared fool Cassius."

"I am not he," said Jon, knowing it was probably not a wise thing to say, but feeling that he had to have someone with which to confide in, and that this man seemed as good as any other around. "My name is Jon," he spoke, deftly excluding his princely title from the introduction. "And now I believe it is your turn."

The old man looked at the man he knew to be Cassius with new eyes. The man before him, though it was the man his memory told him was the sneaky assassin for the Duke, was so different from his memory of him, that he was momentarily put off. What was this? A trick of magic? The man believed in magic. Quite frankly, he knew it existed, despite what the Duke swore. "Maxim. Call me Max. Though… I haven't been called by any thing but 'you there' since I joined this accursed army." He had never before related his dislike of his situation to anyone. To do so would be suicide. But he trusted this Jon who was supposed to be Cassius.

Jon had many questions he had decided to put to Max, but was silenced by the loud and harsh voice of Captain Brady. "The Duke just got word today that we are to have a very distinguished guest at Castle Wellington. A princess. It was a rather unexpected visit, so your duties have been changed until further notice. Guards one through thirty are to take up their normal posts along the fortress walls, guards thirty-one through thirty-six are to now take posts along the watchtower until further notice, and guards thirty-seven to fifty are to go with Guard zero to accompany the Princess from Cliff Village to the castle. Take your posts men," growled the captain in a voice that broached no arguments.

Jon turned quickly to Max, "Max, which guard am I?" The man might have laughed had this strange man, who was supposed to be Cassius, not sounded so worried, had there not been such urgency and confusion in his question.

"The guard that is not a guard I'm afraid. Guard Zero."

The prince frowned at this revelation as Max was joined by a group of thirteen armored men, looking toward the prince expectantly, waiting for orders. Max gave him a nudge as the silence stretched out longer than it should have.

Jon was supposed to give a command. So he said the only one he thought appropriate. "Prepare the horses. Meet me at the gates in fifteen minutes." He tried to put coldness in his voice, a sense of detachment that must belong to the tone of a guard entitled Zero. He was afraid he had been quite unsuccessful. He grabbed Max's arm before he took could scurry away to "prepare the horses." "Max… I have no idea where Cliff Village is,"

This boy was most certainly not Cassius. There was no doubt about it now. Max wondered how long it would take the others to recognize this. If they even would, the blind idiots. "You are not Cassius. It is quite plain. But it must not be to the others." He pulled Jon down a flight of steep stairs and into a busy courtyard; leading him toward the gate he was sure Jon would not know the location of. "Act confidant, cold, as if all of this is below you. Do not show fear. If you can do this, then I can help you with details: what to say, where to go. Do you trust me?"

Who else could Jon trust? There was no one. "Yes, I trust you."

"I cannot help you much boy. No one but Cassius and the Duke truly know what it is that Cassius does." With that warning, he steered Jon toward the large wooden gate and told him how to get to Cliff Village, and how long it would take as they waited on the other guards and the horses.

* * *

"If this guy is here, Damian, then it makes sense that Jon is somewhere else. Possibly in the place that this guy came from!" Elaine was pacing the library. She had refused to stay in bed and Damian would not let her be alone. The situation was too strange. Besides, the man that was Prince Jon was not Prince Jon, and they had to figure out why, and how this had happened.

"There is a way," spoke Damian tentatively. "Elaine, there is a way in which you could contact the prince. If you were able to, then it would prove that he is indeed not the man here, and you would be able to speak to him, to find out if he is alright, and if so, where he is. I hate to ask it of you… but I think it might be the only way."

Elaine's eyes widened and she sat heavily down on a couch. "I can't Damian. Surely there are other ways. We… we can talk to the imposter! Torture the answers out of him if necessary!"

"Don't be absurd Elaine. You know we can't do that. Talking to him would be the most direct way of getting what we want I suppose. But… I don't trust this man. He has shown himself to be callous and unfeeling. He is not the man your Jon is. I would rather him feel safe in his new found glory and role in life. I would rather him believe that we all think you've gone insane. At least for now anyway. Until we're sure."

"Damian," spoke Elaine in a small voice, "anything might go wrong. I've not been the same since that infernal princess put me under that blasted enchanted sleep. At least my dreams have not been the same. I've had insomnia, I've been plagued by nightmares, I feel it would be dangerous for me to try and reach Jon through his dreams. I distinctly remember Jon telling me that you told him that the potion that connects two people's dreams is quite dangerous, fatal at times," she ended defiantly.

"Yes, it is, but only when taken in large doses. You would not require much at all. For one, your dreams are quite open anyway. It is a result of the enchanted sleep. And secondly, though six months has elapsed since Jon drank the potion so that he could enter your dreams to find you, the door of connection never entirely closes. And if there is an open door between your two dream worlds, you can be sure it is not a one way deal. Yes, I'll only give you a bit of the potion."

"Damian, I don't want to," she said with stubbornness in her eyes, in her voice, and pushing her chin up to new heights. "I will not."

"You are scared dear girl. And you have every reason to be. But as I see it, you have two options. You can forget the man you knew, and become acquainted with the man you now have, never knowing what happened to the other, or you can dare to face your fears and attempt to contact the man you love, attempt to save him. Remember what he did for you Elaine, remember what he braved: An enchanted princess, nightmares that were not his own, four ghosts, your almost death, and four, very difficult choices." He wanted her full attention, and she was staring quite blankly at a pillow she had pulled onto her lap. "Look at me young lady," he said with undeniable authority in his voice. "Four choices. Hard choices too. Need I repeat them? No, don't answer, I believe you need a reminder. One kiss to awaken you so that you would hate him, an option coupled with the dire warning that should you two come together, people might one day suffer, be put in danger. Two kisses would awaken you and take away all of your memory of him, giving our prince two choices: one, convince you that you are his wife, his lover, and take advantage of you, or two, refuse to take you as a friend again, saving those that might be endangered if you two were to come together."

"Damian, please, I know about all this," pleaded Elaine.

"No, you will listen, and remember what he did for you, what he may have sacrificed for you." Damian would not be denied; he spoke louder than before. "Three kisses to awaken you and place things exactly the way they were before the enchanted sleep. There would be no guaranteed that you would love him, but it would give you back your free will, give you control of your life and emotions. Four kisses… to kiss you four times must have been very much a temptation, as you may now very well know. He loved you dearly at that point, but had no idea, indeed had clues to the negative, of how you felt for him. Four kisses would have made you love him, no matter if you had before or not. It would have given him his hearts desire, but would have taken away your free will, and sealed the fate of his people, for surely no good can come from such a selfish action."

"But he kissed me three times Damian! He kissed me thrice and gave me back my free will! And do you know what I did with my free will? I decided that I loved him. No, I did not decide it then. I knew it before then, but had been too scared to admit it. But I decided to fight for him. I should have let him go, but I couldn't. Where he was not selfish, I was. Now my mother knows I live, now she will not rest until I've been killed, or she's died trying. And Jon will fight for me, to save me. And his armies will fight to protect me. And some will die. Some will be ripped from their families, their homes. The warnings for the kisses were right Damian. Our being together will only bring death to others, to people we should protect," she finished with a sob, a single tear rolling down her pale cheek.

"Elaine, sweet girl, I did not mean to make you feel guilty over taking happiness when it was offered you. I do not begrudge you for it. In fact, I applaud you for it. You are a beautiful and wise woman and will be a wonderful queen some day. I just wanted to remind you of the king that must rule at your side. I do not remember what your prince Jon looks like, but you paint a beautiful picture of a loving and noble man that is just not apparent in this imposter.

"He suffered just as you do now when he could not find you. He yelled and fumed at me when I thought only of helping him and protecting you. It is the same now. And I will tell you what I told him. You must do all in your power if you wish to save your love. But you must first find the courage to do what you might not like to do, to face truths that might be unbearable." He stood and put a hand on Elaine's trembling shoulder and rubbed in gently, letting go with a soft, comforting squeeze. "I will go to my house and retrieve the potion. If you have decided on following my course of action, on contacting Jon through his dreams, then you will meet me in your old chambers after dinner tonight. Do not let Prince Jon, er, the imposter, know our plans. Stay here, stay away from him, and let him think you insane. Tis better that way. Believe me."

With that, Damian walked out of the library, closing the door behind him with a soft thump. Elaine did not look up, but the sleeve that hid her eyes grew damper with each painful beat of her heart.


	4. ch 4

The ride to Cliff Village was short and tense. The guards were wary of the man they knew as Cassius, as Guard Zero. And he was wary of them. They were fierce and brutish, their long grimy hair matted into braids. Their faces were covered in tangled beards and every inch of exposed skin was covered in dirt. The men did not seem to mind their state of cleanliness; they did not even seem to notice it. It was their natural state of being. What was man without dirt under his fingernails and bits of meat between his teeth?

Prince Jon rode close to the soldier Maxim while trying to keep his distance at the same time. To show any favoritism or niceness of any sort would surely be folly with this foul bunch who expected nothing but foulness from him. But Prince Jon had never been a foul sort of person. He was intelligent and lively with a quick sense of humor. He was noble and kind and the most loyal of men. There were very few times when true fierceness had shown in his eyes. Very few times when his temper had been riled to the point of boiling and overflowing.

Prince Jon was attempting to have a sense of humor, a sense of adventure about this whole thing. He did however wonder, as he rode along with a half scowl, half grin firmly in place, why adventures seemed to assault him around every corner now, when a year ago, he'd not been able to find one if he had set one up himself.

It was his gypsy. He knew this. And he knew she would deny it. But ever since he had stepped into her cottage, and she into his life (glaring at him and demanding he leave her home that very instant), he had been plagued by an over abundance of adventure. But he could not think of her. For thinking of his wife brought smiles to his lips and, unbidden, tears to his eyes. It would not do for Guard Zero to be seen with either.

The village was small, and true to its name, settled serenely on a very high cliff. Prince Jon wondered vaguely and briefly about the safety of it until they approached the small but tidy inn located at the center of the village. Dismounting his steed, he walked with false confidence up to the innkeeper who was standing in the middle of his doorway.

"We have come to escort the Princess," spoke Jon in as much of a threatening monotone as possible.

"She has only just arrived sir," murmured the trembling innkeeper. "She is inside, warming herself by the fire in a private room. Shall I show you to her?"

"Yes." Then he turned to the guards behind him. "Do not stable the horses. I will not be long, and we will leave immediately." He turned to walk into the inn but turned around once more, as if remembering something else. "Prepare the princess's horse." It was a sentence he might have added lightly, adding an "oh yes, why don't you" at the beginning and an "as well" at the end. But he was no longer Prince Jon. He was Cassius, and Cassius, the prince figured, was not a man to talk conversationally or lightly.

The prince was ushered through a narrow and long hallway and shown to a large room at the hallway's end. He opened the door quickly, wasting no time with any action, and was granted the vision of a rather tall, cloaked figure standing in front of a scorching fire. She stood close to the flames, daring them to jump out at her; none of them seemed brave enough to accept her challenge. She pushed her cloak back, revealing long chestnut brown locks streaked with glistening strands of auburn.

"I've come to escort you to Castle Wellington," announced the prince to the princess's back.

She turned around, revealing perfectly chiseled features and the coolest blue eyes fringed in thick dark lashes. Her skin was milky white, her neck graceful, her lips rosy pink: she was perfection itself.

And Prince Jon knew her. He almost let out a cry of relief, for here was someone he knew, but his joy quickly sank as he realized that she would most likely see him as Cassius like everyone else did. And… did that make him truly Cassius? His mouth dropped open as he stared at her, his mind turned over and over in fear that she would not recognize him, and he lost all capability to speak.

Her perfect lips curled upward into a smile as she breathed one tiny word. "Brother," she said clearly, moving across the room to embrace him. He still could not speak, so she spoke in his stead. "My dear new brother Jon, how nice it is to see you." With a catch in her voice that sounded like laughter she added, "and how is your wife, my sister?"

"You know me…" was all our poor prince was capable of. But he was not dim witted, merely dulled by surprise, and his mind quickly began to work once more. "You know me. You. Elaine said that you… have magic." He ended with a scowl, grabbing his forearm in a threatening grip and forcing her to take a seat upon a nearby couch. "You, dear sister Rene, would not have anything to do with this would you?" There were not many times when his anger could become passionately inflamed, but the sight of his sister in law sitting and smiling up at him with a hint of superiority and malicious intent in her eyes sparked the flame of his temper that might rapidly turn into an uncontrollable fire if not quickly squelched.

Princess Rene thought briefly of playing dumb for a while, of teasing him, but a very angry man stood before her. She could see that he was figuring it all out for himself, and she could not have him jumping to conclusions. Yes, she would handle this as she would any business arrangement. "Yes, I have. I should say that I'm sorry to have so inconvenienced you, but I cannot, for I am not. My will was thwarted, and I will use any means necessary to gain my own end. Though it does seem a bit callous of me to have ripped you and my sister apart on your wedding night… it could not be helped."

"What have you done and why? What did you not get that you so sorely wanted Princess?"

"I want a husband," she stated plainly. "And the man I had chosen, did not choose me. You see, the Duke of Wellington is an extremely powerful and handsome man. He is not cruel, but he is sharp, he takes what he wants. He is realistic, he is strong, a warrior. I thought at first that this was the opposite of the type of man I desired. I wanted someone whom I could manipulate, control. But the duke intrigued me no end. I began to think that it might be quite the challenge to tame such a man. But my dilemma lies in the fact that he is untamable, or so he would have everyone believe." There was but a slight hint of a frown in her eyes that did not even touch her lips.

"Are you saying that the Duke of Wellington is the man who refused your hand in marriage?"

"Yes," was her rather terse answer. "But it was for a very unacceptable reason, which is where you come in dear brother. You see, the highest point of Wellington's castle is the watchtower. But it is not a structure in which guards keep watch. Rather, it houses a sleeping maiden. She is reportedly very beautiful with golden hair and eyes and rosy skin." Princess Rene looked as if she did not believe these claims, and that if they were indeed true, that they had no bearing on her at all. "Did you know that Wellington castle, and its dukedom do not originally belong to the current duke?" she asked, changing the subject abruptly. "No, he won them in battle. He fought hard and won defeated the original owner, gaining also his true goal: the watchtower and its living yet sleeping prize."

"What does this have to do with me Rene?"

"Wellington cannot enter the tower. The same magic that keeps the maiden sleeping, keeps him from entering. He has never even seen the chit and is madly in love with her, refusing to marry any but her." Now the princess really did sound offended. To be passed over for a sleeping maiden that the gentleman in question had never even see! She hoped the girl had warts… lots of them. She left her thoughts, for they would do no good in this case, and continued to explain the dilemma to prince Jon. "I need to wake the girl. As long as the enchantment holds over her, the enchantment holds over the duke. He is a sensible man under it all brother, and I'm quite sure that once she awakens and he sees how normal she really is, how like other silly girls she must be, he will cast her from his heart."

"Do you then love him Rene?"

"Do not mistake me Jon, I do not wish to step into that void in his heart, I truly do not believe he has one… but then again neither do I. I merely wish him to accept me as good enough to be his wife, to rule along side him." She added with a smile, "He is quite close to winning a war with the neighboring kingdom of Chermast. He will be king then. And I will be queen."

"I still don't understand where I fit into all of this Rene. Perhaps I'm a dullard, but please spell it out for me."

"Of course you're no dullard, I've simply not got to that part yet. You see, the duke is not a noble man. And a noble man is called for to break the curse: only one noble of heart may enter the slumbering maid's chamber, and only that man, needing most direly for her to awaken may lift the enchantment that holds her. You are noble. And now, you have a great need for the lady to awaken. For you will not resume your role as Prince Jon, husband to my silly older sister, until she has done so."

"What do you intend to do with the sleeping girl once I've wakened her?"

"Why I don't know. Oh don't worry; I won't kill her. No, murder is too messy, too complicated. I'll simply clear that hurdle once I reach it." She gave him a dazzling smile then held out her hand to him. "So brother, do we have a deal?"

Jon had no other option. If he wanted to see his gypsy again, he was going to have to fall into the desire of her sister. He would free the girl from her sleep. "We do sister. But I believe that you know how important it is to call me"

"Cassius, or Guard Zero," she interrupted. "Of course I know. I'm the one who initiated the spell." She flashed him yet another smile and took his hand from where it hung at his side, and pulled her arm through his. "I trust, young _Cassius_, that the trip back to Castle Wellington will be quite uneventful?"

"Yes Princess," answered the cold-eyed prince.

* * *

Elaine stood looking out her window at the setting sun. Intense oranges, pinks and purples spilled across the pale blue sky, and behind her, a deep midnight blue crawled towards the lowering orb and its blazing colors. She heard the soft footfalls and steady breathing of her godfather behind her.

"Are you ready?" It was not a question of whether she would do it or not. He knew she would. He knew when he left her to decide, that she would end up taking the dream potion. He had prayed for her. She would need his prayers, and her own, to save her from the nightmares that would follow her on this trip to discover her husband through his dreams.

"Yes," she said resolutely, in a voice that was little less than a hopeless breath. She waited to turn around until the sun and its train of colors had been consumed by the encroaching night. When all the sky was painted deepest blue, she turned and walked to her bed. She was dressed simply in a loose white shift that fell off one shoulder. Her hair was pulled back with a long vibrantly red silken scarf. It was wound once around her head then looped backwards to restrain her long dark curls.

Her prince had given it to her, saying that he had seen a bit of gypsy in it and knew she would look the part wearing it.

She lay down on the bed, forsaking any comfortable position, and for the first time, made eye contact with Damian. Without words, he came forward and lifted her head from the pillows it laid on. He stared at her gently, wishing that she could lead an uneventful life as she had always wished to do but seemed destined to forever miss.

"Think solely of him sweet girl. If you let your mind wander, your purpose and resolve will as well. If you stay firm in your thoughts of Prince Jon, then your nightmares will stay at bay; they will have no cracks to seep in through. Give them none princess. I cannot promise utter tranquility, and I will not give you the usual dose, for your dreams are strong already. You must not be scared. Are you scared?"

"Yes," she answered truthfully. "I've had troubles with sleep, with dreaming and nightmares since the enchantment. I am scared of this, though I will face it anyway."

"Stubbornness. Yes, that and courage will pull you through I believe. I will wait here for you to awaken. I will not sleep while you do."

Pushing the small wooden vile to her lips and tipping it forward, he watched as a steady stream of blue liquid flowed into her mouth. Pulling the bottle away, he laid the back of his hand against her open eyelids. "Dream carefully Princess Elaina of Darwin, wife to the heir of Caraway, and find your prince." He lifted his hand from her face. Her pale eyelids were closed, fluttering quickly in the flickering candlelight of her chamber.

* * *

She did not remember falling asleep; indeed, she had thought she would fight it. But instead, it was instantaneous and she was quite willing. The sleep was normal for a while. She drifted unconsciously in darkness, a single image, a single word, a mantra in her sleeping mind. Her husband's face was the image she clung desperately to, his name was a light in the suffocating blackness. She would let no doubt, no other thought enter here were only thoughts of him would bring her victory.

Her wakening was sudden, but not jolting. She had almost expected it. She sat in a tree. It was tall with long, thick, gnarled branches that reached to all sides of the forest in stood in. Fresh brilliant green buds sprouted here and there amongst the darker green leaves. The branches came close to the ground, spread from each other almost like steps as if in invitation to all those who would climb it. Her first feeling, while peering through the tree's upper branches to the patches of clear blue sky that were revealed above, was that of safety. She almost smiled for the first time since awakening to a stranger in her bed. The hint of a smile however, was enough to transform her face from sullen sadness to contentment.

She heard voices below her. No, there was only one voice, but it was ceaselessly talking to itself. Straining to see the person down below, she concentrated on the faint words that flew up to her perch in the tree.

"Am I to ever be plagued by sleeping damsels in distress? Of course the first one was of my own making, and of course it was my duty to wake her. Indeed, if I had failed in my task, I'd have most likely been miserable for the rest of my life!" The man stopped his pacing and sat Indian style against the sturdy trunk of Elaine's tree, but still continued his monologue. "But that… that woman! I could beat her! Well, no… I don't think I could beat her. I'd never have the nerve to beat a woman, no matter how dangerously magical she is." He sighed a heavy sigh and lapsed into a bout of silence.

Elaine's hint of a smile had widened now into a very wide grin, for she recognized the voice of the man below.

Prince Jon was deep in thought when very strict words fell to him, it seemed, from the very heavens.

"Well," said the lyrical voice, "you may not be able to beat a woman, but perhaps you know a tough woman who can do the job for you. For truly, anyone who causes that much chaos ought to be beaten."

Prince Jon jumped to his feet, turning and twisting in every direction, head tilted all the way back. He knew that he knew the voice, and since this was his dream, he should be able to have whatever vision he pleased. And true to his heart's desire, a figure, broken by leaves and branches and streaming beams of sunlight, appeared within the tree's arms. He could see dark hair contrasting against a ghostly white shift and the hint of sparkling brown eyes.

"You are my dream madam, and I command you to come down to me."

"I am no dream sir, and I shall do as I please!"

He smiled, even in dreams he could not rid her of her independent nature, indeed, he would not want to. "Then I shall come up!"

"No, do not bother. For I find that the branch grows uncomfortable, and that the grass below looks rather soft. Am I right sir, about the grass?"

"Indeed you are lady," he said in all seriousness.

She climbed gingerly down, aware of the fact that he stayed right below her, as if he would catch her or break her fall should she accidentally be so affected by devious gravity. When she reached the very last limb, she dropped a short distance and found herself suddenly in the circle of her husband's arms.

"I found you," she breathed, her smile lighting her eyes.

"Were you looking?" He was quite distracted by a lock of hair that had fallen in front of one of her eyes. He took it and wrapped it around his finger as he questioned her so.

"I still am!" she replied, pushing herself away from the warmth of his arms. "Surely you realize that you are not with me!" She placed her fists firmly on her hips and stared him down, daring him to take her lightly.

"But of course I'm with you, here, in my dream," said the prince confusedly.

"Oh you are slow today aren't you. Yes, we are here in this dream, but I am not a dream me. I am a real me."

He looked confused for one brief second before enlightenment sparked in his eyes. "You are asleep as well then! You took Damian's potion."

"Yes. I took it to come and ask you where you've taken yourself off to, leaving in your stead a slob of a man whom everyone believes to be you!"

Jon looked thoughtful for a bit, replying almost to himself, "Yes, it is the same here. They all think me Cassius."

"Cassius!? Then that is his name! Yes, the name does suit him. He looks as much like a Prince Jon as you look like a Cassius." She dropped to a sitting position in front of the tree, leaning her long back against its trunk. Her prince stood above her, pacing slowly back and forth.

"Your sister's plan makes sense now! She could not just bring me here, because the Duke would never let me into the watchtower. She had to switch me with a man the duke trusted. She had to make everyone think that I was he."

"Jon, what are you talking about? My sister? What does Rene have to do with any of this? She said she would not hurt us. Remember?" She lifted her head from where it had leaned against the tree to stare incredulously at her husband.

Jon quickly told her about his meeting with her sister at the inn in Cliff Village, and about the curse of sleep that kept the young girl prisoner in the watchtower of Wellington Castle.

"Let me see if I've got this then," spoke Elaine slowly, "Rene wishes the marry the Duke, who wishes to marry this sleeping lady, who can only be awoken by a noble man with great need." She arched one eyebrow up at him and plopped an elbow onto a propped up knee. "And she switched you, who are noble and have a need to return to your new wife, with Cassius, who is dangerous and mean and most trusted by the scavenging Duke of Wellington, so that you may kiss this sleeping maiden, awaken her from her enchanted sleep, and reveal to the poor duke just how unworthy the lady is of his love. In effect, making him realize just how worthy my sister is of love." Elaine threw her hands up in disbelief with a groan of utter annoyance.

"No, love has nothing to do with it apparently. She just wants him to realize how powerful she is, how much of a help she would be to him." Prince Jon sat down in front of his wife, propping both elbows on his knees and pushing his cheeks into his fists. Elaine laughed at the funny and pitiful picture they made, and began to wish that she would never awake from this dream. Unless, of course, she could awake with him beside her.

As if he could read her thoughts, Jon reached over and caressed the line of her jaw. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes, startling him when she stated, "I will help you."

"Help me? It is not your kiss that will awaken this forsaken maiden and bring me back to you."

"I will not sit idly by with this horrid man and wait like a good little girl for you to return! And you're not going to kiss her!"

"But that's the only way I can wake her. You know that! And yes you will stay home! I can't be sure of what danger lurks here. And besides, I could kiss her tomorrow and it will all be over."

Both were standing now, once caressing fingers balled into frustrated fists at the end of stiff arms that were thrown defensively across the prince's chest and down to Elaine's sides. Two pair of dark eyes sparked with determination.

"I said, you will not kiss her! And I can't believe you are foolish enough to believe that this enchantment, spell, curse, whatever, is that simple. Surely you know that nothing of this sort is ever that simple!" As she yelled, dark clouds swirled in from nowhere and marred the perfection of the pure blue sky. The sturdy boughs of the gnarled climbing tree began to creak and sway, and the soft green grass beneath their bare feet began to wither and crisp. Somewhere in the distance a flash of violent lighting illuminated the ever-darkening sky, and a rumble of thunder threatened from the silence beyond.

"I will keep hope that it is that simple Elaine. And it will keep me happy to know that while I am consigned to this fate, you are safe with Damian and my father, safe behind fortified castle walls and a garrison of ready troops. You know as well as I what dangers lie waiting for you in this world. They almost kept you from me. I will not let them take you from me now." He stepped closer to his wife as he saw that the drops on her cheeks were not the large soaking ones that were now spattering down from heaven.

As he took her in his arms she mumbled into his shoulder, "It is my nightmares breaking through. My fear and anger broke my concentration. I'm sorry. Wake up now, please, or else you'll have to face them with me. I would not wish that for you."

"I've faced your nightmares before gypsy, I'll face them with you again. I'll not wake up."

She heard the determination in his voice and knew it was best not to argue. She didn't want to anyway. She remembered how his presence on their wedding night had kept the ugly dreams away, and prayed that his presence now, thought only in spirit and mind, would keep her safe from her own fears.

All of a sudden, chaos broke out around them. Tall, strong men yelled warnings and screamed to their mates. Willowy yet sturdy women in vibrant colors and drenched clothes wailed and dark haired children with fearful dark eyes cried out in the cold night. Prince Jon watched the scene that had broke out around them as Elaine hid her eyes fiercely in his shoulder, holding onto his shirt sleeves as tightly as if the very wind that howled through the trees might pick her up and carry her far away.

Arrows whiled into the scene from the woods surrounding the frightened group of children. They pierced the chests of women and children as the cold clash of steel could be heard from the dark coverage of the forest.

Jon, knowing himself to be no more than a spirit in this place, watched the scene with a detached sense of horror. No one was spared. When it ended, there was naught but a pile of bodies to be picked through as guards and armored villagers picked through corpses. He watched as one man kicked a lifeless woman, muttering under his breath, "damn gypsy heathens. They've no right to come round good folk like us."

The image did not waver and leave as the others always had. This one stayed sharp and crisp as Elaine still clung to him, and Jon wondered why, as he surveyed the brutal murders before him, why they did not melt back to his dreaming tree.

Then he heard the crying. It was soft and heart wrenching, and very much like the crying that was coming from the woman in his arms. Curious, he stepped toward a buggy that had been hidden by a rocky bluff. The crying grew louder, though it was still soft, and Elaine's steps at her husband's side were halting. She did not wish to move closer, but curiosity propelled the Prince, and she would not leave his side.

She was ashamed of her tears, had been ashamed of them that night as well. The fact that she was made to relive this over seemed like a fresh cut to her, an insult on top of a beating. Attempting to gather her pride about her, to be as brave as she always claimed to be, she lifted her face from her husband's chest and set her chin high. She knew what she would see when they rounded that corner of the forgotten gypsy carriage. She would face it.

Prince Jon gasped involuntarily when he saw the image his wife had expected. A young Elaine sat against the buggy, an arrow lodged deep in the front top of her shoulder, cradling a young boy. The boy's hair was as dark and curly as hers; his eyes were a brilliant sapphire blue. And they were lifeless. Five arrows rose from his chest and two were almost hidden by Elaine's skirts, piercing the small figure's right side. Blood soaked the boy's shirt, and the girl's arms and clothes.

Soon, young Elaine's eyes dried, and holding the boy, she looked emotionlessly into the forest. And after that, she kissed the boy's forehead, gently moved him from her lap, and walked around the gypsy camp. She moved slowly, chin held high, showing no emotion but for the despair that she could not keep from her eyes. Prince Jon worried still about the arrow in the girl's shoulder, though he knew that the girl would live to marry him one day. He still worried as the despondent scene faded and the girl in his arms did too.

Sunlight was pouring through the small slit windows at the top of the hall where the guards of Wellington Castle slept. Jon rose and threw on his heavy shirt of chain mail, steeling and shoving down the heart that threatened to thump right out of his chest. Strapping the sword that was not his own to his waist, he left the hall before the other men could wake, and with a grim look that was not likely to soon leave his face, watched the sun rise from the castle ramparts.


	5. ch 5

A faint reminder of him clung to her senses, driving away the worst of the nightmares. At least she didn't awake shivering and crying as she usually did.

Today Elaine awoke with a purpose.

Rising from her linen twisted bed, she pulled her hair neatly into a bun at the nape of her neck, and walked briskly over to the dresser on the opposite side of the room. Opening the very bottom drawer and reaching into the very back of it, she pulled out a wrinkled pair of men's britches. Rummaging through a mass of hanging blouses supplied a crisp white long sleeved shirt that opened at the top, its laces dangling untied. She moved to change into her new ensemble, but on second thought, turned back to the closet and pulled a very worn, but serviceable, drab brown skirt from the very back. Satisfied with the decision, she moved behind the changing screen.

The man eyed her movements carefully and quietly.

After a time, Elaine emerged fully dressed in shirt and skirt, pants hidden safely under the skirt. Placing her hands on her hips, she stared at the old man.

"Damian, are you going to wish me good morning?" she asked.

"I'm merely pondering your choice of clothing my dear."

"Well, I can hardly travel alone and undercover in silks, velvets, and ribbons," she replied, sitting on the edge of her bed to pull on a stout pair of boots.

"Travel?" one eyebrow shot up. "Then I take it you were successful?"

"To a point," was her cryptic remark. She pulled a knapsack from a dark intricately carved trunk at the end of her bed and began scanning the room, weighing each item mentally and either accepting or discarding it.

"Could you elaborate?" asked Damian.

"I met him. I was right. My sister the Princess Rene has taken our prince and a dangerous soldier, and switched them, enchanting us and those that know this soldier into thinking that they are each other. The man you believe to be Prince Jon, is not Prince Jon. I ask you to describe the prince, and you say he is portly, soft, and has blond hair and blue eyes. But I know that the real prince does not fit this description."

"Why would Rene do such a thing? How can she do such a thing?" asked Damian.

Elaine told him about the sleeping maiden in Castle Wellington's watchtower, and Jon's new mission to free her from her enchanted sleep.

"Did you know that Rene had such powers?"

Elaine blushed, slowly realizing that maybe she should have told the old magician about her sister's own powers. "Yes… I did know. But she told me that she used her powers only to control her mother. I sensed that she had great magic potential, but I had no idea that she could yet use it. And… and she promised not to hurt me or Prince Jon."

"Well, technically… she's kept her promise," admitted Damian. Elaine only frowned.

"But Jon is in a precarious position. The man here, his real name is Cassius, is a dangerous man, a trusted guard for the Duke of Wellington. That is why she switched Jon with him. She needed Jon's nobility and bravery, and his ability to wake sleeping maidens, but she also needed the Duke to trust him. And Cassius is the only man the Duke truly trusts."

"Therefore… if the Duke _thinks _that Jon is Cassius, then he trusts Jon."

"Yes."

"And I assume that you are headed toward Castle Wellington. Do you know where this castle is Elaine?" Damian eyed the young woman warily.

"No. But I know it's somewhere close to a small town: Cliff Village. I shall find it," she said, determination dripping from every word.

"But what is the need Princess? Prince Jon will kiss the maiden, awaken her, and then Rene's enchantment will be over. Just sit it out and be patient."

"That's what Jon told me. But I won't. I can't. I refuse to sit here and watch that sniveling pretender enjoy my husband's life. And what if something happens. Surely it can't be all that simple. Something could go wrong. And if it does, then I'll be there to help him. Besides, do you expect a newly married woman to stay so long away from her husband?" Standing from the bed, she threw a couple items from her room into her bag and walked towards the door, as if the matter was settled. For her, it was. She was going and that was that.

"I cannot stop you. Obviously," spoke Damian quite grudgingly. "But if you must go, then you won't go alone. I cannot go with you. If what you say about the Duke of Wellington is true, then our kingdom could be in danger. He is an ambitious man, and your sister is power hungry. Something must be done here to ensure that their starving gazes do not turn this way, and if they do, then we must be ready to defend ourselves."

Elaine nodded in agreement, but spoke quickly. "I do not need anyone to come with me. I'd rather go alone thank you. I'll take Wilson."

"No, you do not even know how to get there. You will take Wilson, but you'll take the pretender as well. You are right. It is not wise to have this Cassius fellow taking advantage of the royal perks of the Prince's life. Nor is it wise to have him take advantage of the women here who consider themselves royal perks. We do not wish to sully your husband's reputation, nor do we wish to get any young girl into trouble."

"Do you think Cassius would do such a thing?" asked Elaine, quite scandalized.

"Yes, I do. He will go with you."

"I do not wish to travel with him! I don't want to be within a hundred yards of him Damian! He's not a good man. You could not choose a dastardlier traveling companion for me. Besides, he will not readily give up his newfound "perks" as you call them."

"Yes he will," menaced Damian, rising from his relaxed sitting position and taking quick strides toward the door, encircling Elaine's wrist with his hearty fingers and pulling him behind her.

"Damian! What are you doing? I do not want to take him with me!" Damian would not reply; he simply kept his eye fixated on the end of the long white stone hallway. Elaine stopped arguing with the silent man and matched her reluctant steps to his hurried ones as they rounded the corner at the end of the hallway and started storming down another. At the end of that one, they reached a staircase. Damian pulled her up the stairs and down another hallway before throwing open the double doors at the hallway's end.

"Cassius!" he bellowed, glancing fiercely from side to side. When there was no reply, he pushed open the door at the end of the Prince's sitting room and entered the bedroom.

This room was not empty. In fact, there was one more person than Damian cared for. Cassius lay amongst the silken covers, a declothed courtier in his pudgy arms. His yellow hair hung limply over his eyes and the girl yelped in surprise.

"Out," Damian demanded coldly of the girl.

"Wait, wait, who are you old man to come barging into my room at such an hour. I believe it is my right to a bit of privacy. Leave this room at once," ordered the fake prince.

Damian would have none of it. And the girl in the bed was too afraid of the old magician to question him let alone defy his orders. Clutching a sheet to her body, she bent to pick up her clothes from the floor and left the room as quickly as she could. Not, however, before she tossed a victorious look at Elaine.

Elaine could not image how she might have felt had it truly been her husband in that bed with that woman. Enraged, betrayed, yes, betrayed. As it was now, she wanted to throttle the woman senseless, beat her to within an inch of her life for even thinking of sleeping with a man married to her. It didn't matter that the man the woman had lain with was not truly Elaine's love and husband, but it was the principle of the matter.

Elaine watched as Damian threw a pair of discarded pants at the affronted man in the bed. "If you truly were Prince Jon, you would not have been in bed with that wench. If you truly were the man I taught and respected, you would not question any order I give you. I've come to believe, _Prince Jon_," said Damian with mockery in his voice, "that you are not the Prince after all."

"You've been listening to that woman's mad ramblings have you?" smirked Cassius. "You're just as mad as she is. This whole castle, including the king, my father, will testify that I am the Prince of Caraway."

"Do not think you hold something above my head boy," spoke Damian calmly. "Now put on those pants. I've got a mind of what to do with you."

"No! I will not!" refused Cassius, but before the last word could leave his lips, his body moved of its own accord, taking the pants the old man had thrown at him and pulling them onto his legs under the covers. "What are you doing old man? How do you do this?" A note of panic lingered in his voice. "Magic… magic… not magic." Cassius was scared now. Though why he was scared of magic was a mystery to Elaine. She looked on questioningly and curiously.

"And that shirt," ordered Damian pointing toward the discarded garment on the floor.

Cassius left the bed and bent to pick it up and slide it over his head against his free will as Damian look on smugly. "Now boy, do you wish to do as I ask, or will you have me control you? The choice is yours of course."

Cassius took the matter into heavy consideration before finally replying, "I… I'll do as you say. Just take your curse off me."

Damian smiled. "I thought you'd come to that conclusion. And a good thing too. Now, follow me. Or will I have to keep you pinned to my side as I have the princess here?"

Cassius realized that the old magician held Princess Elaine's wrist in a tight grip. She did not look happy. Cassius shook his head, and agreeing to follow Damian to the last word, trailed him and Elaine out of the prince's chamber of rooms and walked silently down the hall.

They went straight for the King's library. Damian hoped the man would be there, as he usually was at this hour. And his hope was not in vain, for there at the simple mahogany desk, plainly dressed was Prince Jon's father. The King was quite startled when his most trusted advisor barged into the room trailing his son and daughter in law, both of which looked quite upset, behind him.

"King Jacob, I've an important matter to speak of with you." Damian locked the door behind him as Cassius took a seat near a shelf of books and Elaine scowled fiercely. The king simply looked confused.

"What is so dire that you must rile us all so early Damian?" he asked, looking from one of the intruders to the other.

"Are you comfortable Jacob? Because it is a complicated and shocking story which I have to relate. To start, the man sitting in that chair is not your son. King Jacob, meet Cassius, Guard Zero for the Duke of Wellington." Damian's face could not have been any more serious.

"What do you mean man? Of course he is!"

"No, he is not. Think Jacob, your first instinct may be to accept this man before you as your flesh and blood, but isn't that instinct a little too pushy? Surely you must feel something out of place here. I do, though I admit I wasn't looking for it, and I didn't feel it at first. It was the princess that knew it. I assure you, she is not insane." Damian told the king of how Elaine had used the dreaming potion to confirm her suspicions about Cassius and the Prince.

The King stood and walked slowly toward the man sitting in the chair. All of his senses told him that this was his son. But the lazy way that the young man sat in that chair didn't seem right, nor did the insolent way his eyes met the king's.

"Is this true? Tell me the truth of it now boy, for if I think you are lying even the least bit, I'll show you how a king deals with those participating in treason," the king warned, not sure weather he wanted Damian's story to be true or not, but knowing that he would hold to his promise to the would be imposter.

Cassius heaved a sigh. "I suppose the gig is up. I mean, if you know my name, then I suppose you have met with your prince." This last he said to Elaine. "But surely you must know that for all intensive purposes, I am the Prince now. For some wonderful reason, fate has chosen to be kind to a poor soldier. The only downfall to my situation is that I'm married to that hag."

Elaine wanted to throw herself at his neck and squeeze until those cold blue eyes of his popped from his skull, but found herself constricted by both Damian and her father in law. Apparently, she had leapt to do just as she desired to the walking, talking pile of horse droppings she considered this imposter to be. Too bad the other two men had been quick to catch her, she thought, enjoying the mental image of beating him viciously.

"Calm down Elaine, please, calm down," insisted King Jacob. Damian pulled her down to sit on a couch across the room, but she never took her narrowed eyes from Cassius. Who, she noticed, did not look the least bit alarmed or frightened by her show of temper. He still lounged lazily in his silken chair, eyeing her with a bemused expression.

"So what do we do?" asked the king over Elaine's head.

"Elaine is going to Castle Wellington, to be with Jon. I propose that we send Cassius with her as a guide. Surely he knows how to get to his home, and surely he can provide even some protection for her."

"I don't know. They don't seem to like one another," replied Jacob warily. "If he doesn't leave her somewhere to die, then she'll tear him to peaces while he sleeps." The two men shared a look of understanding and then Damian spoke.

"King Jacob, will you follow me into the adjoining study. I think there are some matters we should discuss privately." The king nodded and moved toward the door of the study, only pausing to listen to Damian's instructions to Cassius and Elaine. "Neither of you are to leave this room. Do you hear me? Matter of fact…" Damian walked over to the library door and placed his hands on the doorknobs. Closing his eyes, he mumbled a series of unintelligible words and the doors took on a red glow. Opening his eyes, he informed the two young people, "If you touch these doors, you will be burned. They are not only locked by magic, but are protected by a fire charm. You'll be going nowhere until we let you. And believe me, you will be going… together. So you'd better talk, get to know each other, perhaps become friends." With a patronizing quirk of a smile, Damian followed the king into the study, closed the door, then performed a block charm on it reassuring that all sound would be blocked in, and the two in the library would not be able to eavesdrop.

Elaine ripped her gaze from Cassius, turning her head to look in front of her sullenly. She would not speak to this man.

And Cassius had no intentions of speaking to her either. So he took to studying her. She was tall for a woman, with a strong frame and dark features. She was traditionally beautiful with golden hair, delicate grace, sapphire blue eyes and all that, but there was something to her. It was unexplainable to Cassius, who had never been attracted to, or seen really, a beautiful or noble spirit. He did not prefer women with stubborn chins or piercing eyes. He did not believe in intelligent women, to him there was nothing so disgusting as a woman with brains. And he did not trust magic. And she had that about her, and yes, it unnerved him.

Thought became bothersome for the guard turned prince. "How did you know that I wasn't Prince Jon when no one else did?"

"I do not wish to talk to you," Elaine shot back at him.

"Fine. I don't particularly wish to talk to you either, but you are the only one about. Surely you can bring yourself to answer me."

"I'm a storyteller."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Cassius asked incredulously.

"Storytellers know truth. They know magic. And they can tell the two apart. It comes from knowing story after story about both." Elaine thought for a second more before adding, "And I know Jon. I know my husband. And though some sort of magic might have been working on me, screaming that you were he, I knew you were not. You are not like him at all."

"Not that I'm interested, but for the sake of conversation, what is he like?" asked Cassius lazily.

"Not that I want to tell you, but for the sake of conversation, I'll tell you. He… he is vexing," she spat out, remembering the way he had ordered her to stay put in the dream last night. "But he is caring," remembering the way he had held her during the nightmare. "He is noble, and teasing, and adventurous. His soul matches mine. That's why I could tell. The enchantment must not reach that far. For your soul is as different from my husbands as night is from day."

"Ha! Dark and light huh, good and evil. Do you think I'm evil then?"

"Maybe. You are certainly mercenary. And you most likely have no passion for anything. That's another thing Jon is, he's passionate. And he loves me. And when you go to bed with a man who loves you, and wake up with a man who doesn't, it's quite shocking."

"Imagine if that man who didn't love you was the man you loved you when you went to sleep. Would that not be even more shocking?"

Elaine thought about it, amazed that this infuriating imposter had had such a deep thought. She replied slowly, "Yes, I suppose it would."

Cassius smiled. She wasn't as smart as he, he knew it, and it pleased him.

Their conversation could go nowhere else for at that moment Damian and King Jacob opened the study doors and bustled in. Both Cassius and Elaine looked toward the men expectantly.

"We've come to a decision. Cassius will guide Princess Elaina to Castle Wellington. Since everyone seems to believe that Cassius is the prince, then it is the most sensible idea. For everyone knows that when Elaine goes, her prince follows. Not to do so would be to give your charade away Cassius." This announcement came from King Jacob, looking smug and satisfied.

Damian spoke next. "And since you two are not even remotely fond of each other, I'll provide incentive. Cassius, if you are a good and accommodating guide, taking care to keep your traveling companion safe from brutish physical threat, then we will compensate you handsomely. How does five thousand gold comts now and five thousand upon the safe return of our princess sound?"

A greedy light lit up Cassius' eyes and a small smile formed on his thin lips. "I say for a total of ten thousand gold comts I could very well learn to love your princess. That is more than the Duke pays me in two years!"

"Good," spoke King Jacob, "And as for you Elaine… we simply beg your good reason. You do not know how to get to Wellington. This mercenary soldier turned guide will show you the way. And… if he does anything dishonorable, I give you full permission to flail him!"

Elaine's face was a mass of emotion and indecision. She wished to leave this very instant. To think that her prince might at any moment kiss another sleeping maiden made her scowl terribly. Perhaps if she accepted the offer and the odious guide, they would let her leave. "Can I leave now, this very instant, if I accept Cassius as my guide?"

Both older men nodded their heads in agreement.

"Then I accept."


	6. Chapter 6

The cold wind ripped through the thick fur cloak that hung heavily about Elaine's shoulders. The dark hood was pulled low over her face, yet could not keep the biting chill from reddening her frozen features. She had long ago stopped responding to the banal flow of words that streamed steadily over the shoulder of the strange man who led her way.

Cassius.

Assassin. Guard Zero. Trusted advisor to the feared Duke of Wellington. Yet she did not fear him. Truthfully, she feared nothing at the moment. To fear would be to waste energy she might need in fighting off her sister.

Elaine could not think of her sister. It brought flaming anger to her cheeks and sent scorching blood through her veins. Catherine would regret meddling in her elder sister's life, there was no question about that.

"Princess? Princess?" Cassius's stream of words halted and he turned to face her. "I'd think the least you could do is listen when I am speaking to you."

"Not if what you say holds no interest for me," responded Elaine archly.

"If getting out of this blasted blizzard holds no interest for you, then feel free to stay out here in the wet and cold. I am seeking warmth and shelter in that barn." Cassius turned his horse from her and led it through the quickly rising snow toward a gray barn on the edge of the woods they traveled through.

Elaine lifted her eyes to the structure. She was certainly not opposed to getting out of this horrid weather. However, she was opposed to the confined company of her talkative traveling companion, and to the delay that stopping now, at the beginning of their journey, would create. But there was nothing she could do. It was not wise, she admitted hesitantly, to travel in weather such as this. Cassius had said that it was three days ride from The White Castle at Caraway to Castle Wellington in the neighboring kingdom. Three days was not a long time, she told herself, while at the same time her heart screamed that it was an eternity.

Elaine led Maya towards the seemingly sturdy gray barn, dismounted and led her inside, along with Cassius's mount, Wilson. At finding Wilson tethered outside the barn, Elaine stood motionless for a moment. The man was just going to leave the horse standing in the cold? How did he expect to ride for three days by mistreating his horse so? And it was Wilson at that! It was her husband's favorite horse, his best friend, the grandsire of her horse Maya! A magnificent beast, who in Elaine's opinion, was worthy of better treatment than even Cassius. She took hold of Wilson's reins and led both horses into the chilled air of the blessedly dry barn.

"Leave the bloody beasts outside will you!" the portly man exclaimed.

"I assume then that you would prefer to walk the rest of the way to the Duke's castle." Replied Elaine calmly. Cassius threw his dark cloak from his shoulders and tossed himself carelessly down on the nearest pile of hay. Elaine eyed it warily. It was mildewed and a rank smell rose with the dust that was disturbed by her traveling companion. She continued her argument. "Come Cassius, you are a soldier. Every soldier knows the value of a healthy horse."

Cassius grumbled something unintelligible, and Elaine assumed unintelligent, under his breath. He pulled his cloak tightly around his shoulders and closed his eyes. "Just go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow it won't be snowing so bloody hard."

"We can't sleep long. Just enough to regain strength. I will be setting out at first light, no matter if you still sleep."

Cassius opened one eye and watched the new princess settle herself gingerly in the opposite corner of the barn from him. She took folder her cloak tightly about herself and closed her eyes. "Don't sleep soundly Princess," he sneered. "I'm sure your long silky hair and nice warm cloak would fetch quite a price at Cliff Village. I could leave now and be there by morning." He kept his eyes open a few more seconds, waiting for her own eyes to fly open and stare at him indignantly. He was not given the satisfaction. Elaine, apparently, was already asleep.

* * *

Prince David had decided that he definitely did not like his new sister in law. At first he had thought it a good thing that she had requested him specifically for a body guard. She had explained to him that he might have better access to the tower and sleeping maiden if he was put in such a post.

She had been wrong. Prince Jon, the man everyone assumed to be Cassius, now spent his time hovering inches behind Princess Rene at all times. He was forced to watch as his new mistress threw her cunning in front of the Duke of Wellington's face with absolutely no positive results. She would not give up however.

"My lord," she had said as evening was drawing to a close. "Will you walk with me along the castle walls? I can show you various ways in which one uses energy from the dying sun to empower ones self." Her voice had been slow and seductive but the Duke obviously was immune to it.

"I do not vary from my nightly routine Princess," was his reply. "I visit my charge every evening."

"But surely the last golden rays of day on the countenance of a smiling, breathing lady are more enjoyable than those that cast their lot on the face of a sleeping girl." Rene's voice was arch now, challenging. She was growing impatient after only one day. She usually had more patience than this.

The Duke did not turn to face her to give her his answer, but walked away, throwing words over his shoulder. "It does not matter when one looks with his heart, rather than his eyes."  
"You have no heart to look with my Lord," she said as he moved from the room. "You are too much like me."

The Prince took the opportunity of the Duke's absence to talk to Rene. "Perhaps he does have a heart. Perhaps you just cannot see it because of your own lack of one."

Reneturned on him. "Ha! Have you not heard of his deeds? Do you not know how many people he has killed in his quest for power? Do you not know how many of those are women and children? Believe me brother, he has no heart. He believes himself in love because of the enchantment." She paused, for just a moment, before turning gracefully toward him. Her face was blank, unreadable. "Follow him. Tell him you wish to reveal secret information about me to him. That you shall act as a spy."

"What should I tell him? What information."

"I don't care. Make it up. But make sure you get a glimpse of the maiden. I want to know her."

Prince Jon did not question her. Actually, he felt as if he'd much rather be in the company of the hardened killer of Duke at the moment. The mood that clung to the princess was too black and calm to be comfortable. Surely a man who was in love, even if it was just an enchantment, was a better companion than a furious enchantress.

Prince Jon exited the same door the Duke had only moments before and found himself on a low part of the castle wall. Looking left, then right, he eventually spotted the Duke climbing a set of stairs not fifteen feet from the doorway he was standing in. "My Lord!"Jon called out as he jogged toward the stairs. "I must speak with you."

The Duke turned sharply and spoke with an edge to his words. "What Cassius. I cannot be delayed."

"Then I will speak as we walk."

With Jon's words, the duke started once more to climb the stairs, the prince no more than three steps behind him. "I believe I have some information for you."

"Really? I do not see that you could have any information that I would ever be interested in Zero."

"Then all of the Princess Rene's most personal secrets do not matter to you at all? The source of her powers? Her political connections? How much power she actually holds over her parents and the kingdom of Darwin?" Jon told himself to be quiet; he should not over do it.

"And of course, as my man, I assume you will tell me all these things regardless of future promotion or financial gain." Wellington did not look behind him as he spoke, but kept his gaze focused on the quickly approaching tower door.

"Of course. Although, it must all be done in secrecy. I have noticed that the princess spends every waking moment near you. Indeed this is the only time all day she has not been by your side. Perhaps your little foray to the side of your sleeping lady every night would prove an importune time to relate my findings to you."

The Duke paused momentarily at the top step, and spun neatly and sharply to peer at Prince Jon. "I do not allow any other man to peer upon my lady. You shall turn your back to the window as you talk every night. Your information better be as interesting as you say."

"It will my Lord, it will."

"Good." Wellington spun back around and walked to the left of the tower door that stood at the top of the steps. A small, arched window revealed a small dark, circular room. The Duke peered intently inside while the fake guard zero faced the woods that surrounded Castle Wellington, watching the shadows that played there and inventing shadows of his own.

* * *

"I've been waiting," said Elaine huffily, plopping down in the soft green grass that grew under their dreaming tree.

"I've had a long day… but a productive one. It was some time before I was aloud to retire to bed. Not that it's really a bed, more like a pile of molding hay in the corner of a great hall, packed close to several other sweaty, hairy soldiers."

"My day was long as well, and will be even longer tomorrow. I am on my way to you now. Right now we are sleeping inside an abandoned barn. I didn't want to stop traveling, but the snowstorm made it necessary." Elaine looked upward at her husband as he stopped his pacing and glared fiercely at her.

"I told you not to come! I'll finish this business here, break the curse, and be back shortly. This is a dangerous place Elaine, I do not wish to bring you anywhere near it."

"Really Prince Jon! I have been in more dangerous situations than you have I'm sure. You are not the one who is in constant danger of being killed by your very own mother! You did not live half your life traveling from city to city in search of a safe haven, a place where you would never be found. You sir! Did not forsake all notions of safety simply to be with the one you loved now did you!" Elaine stood now, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed, loosened hair whipping in the wind. She did not think he would be able to answer her, and she was right. His eyes lost their determination.

"Just promise me you'll be careful. The man you are with is quite dangerous, and the men here are just as bad. And then the Duke of Wellington is as black as they come Elaine." He took a step toward her, willing her to calm down.

"I understand, and I will be careful. But you must be careful too." She closed the distance between them and put her arms around his neck as his arms slid around her waist. She changed the subject. "How was your day productive?"

"I saw the sleeping lady."

"You did…. Is she indeed beautiful?"

"Yes. Matter of fact, you might recognize her."

Elaine's eyebrows shot up, her eyes wide is confusion.

"I'm sure," said the prince, "that you remember the day we were pulled into the enchantress's forest, the day she tried to take me, but put you under that spell instead."

"Of course I remember that- wait! You don't mean that… you don't mean that the sleeping lady at Wellington castle is the enchantress you put me to sleep!"

"That is indeed who she is. I wasn't supposed to look at her. That was the Duke's only order: "Do not look at the sleeping lady." But I soon learned that he was so entranced with her, that he was completely unaware of my movements. I got a very long, very good view of her. It is the cold hearted princess; alive it would seem, but apparently under a spell similar to the one she forced you to endure."

"Not half as traumatic I suppose."

"She did appear more comfortable than you did. While you were lying on a cold stone slab, she was reclined upon a cushioned couch. While your chamber was wet, dreary, and infested with ghosts, hers was bright, cheery, and keeps her protected from all that are not noble."

"How nice for her." Elaine did not sound as if she were particularly glad for the lady.

"Elaine, is it not strange how she seems to be calling me back to her? First in the forest, and now this."

"But she didn't call you this time. I believe it was Rene who took care of all the present arrangements."

"You're right." PrinceJon changed the subject this time. "Elaine… do you think you will recognize me when you see me? Or, like everyone else, will you see a simple castle guard?"

"What an amazingly stupid question! I am actually quite offended!" She tried to move from his arms, but he would not have it. His eyes bore into hers, demanding an answer. "Yes, of course I will. Do you doubt me?"

"No, not at all." And he illustrated his trust with a kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

I am close to giving this story up. Well, at least here. It seems no one has taken an interest in it, and I don't know if I can blame them. However, if there are those of you who are reading and do not wish for it to lay dormant on the cutting room floor of my imagination, review and tell me so. Supply and Demand you know. My Jane Austen stories are much more popular and though not as challenging to write, claim fun in their own right.

Elaine woke up to the mumbling of voices close at hand. Slowly lifting her lids, she glanced across the barn to a bulk of hay and the man snoring atop it. He lay on his back, his generous girth expanding and retracting with each breath, his greasy yellow hair matted to his pink face. Elaine might have huffed her disgust with the man had she not been under more pressing circumstances. But as it was, she was quite sure that the small barn in which she and her traveling companion had suck refuge from the sudden snowstorm was now surrounded by intruders. Or rather, the intruders who had sheltered themselves in this barn were being detected. She decided not to wake Cassius. Rather, she reached quietly for the small pack that lay no more than a foot from her shoulder. Carefully opening it, she pulled forth a rather long and shiny dagger, and hid it beneath the voluminous folds of her cloak and skirt.

The barn door creaked open and a gush of cold air barraged Elaine's senses.

"What 'ave we 'ere?" said a low, melodious voice. "Seems we've been beaten to the plunder, Raj."

"Yeah, but they can't be that great a thieves, Camlo. They seem ta 'ave fallen asleep on the job." The second voice was not as low as the first. This was no man, but a boy, though his voice too rang like song in the air. The sound of both voices caused Elaine's eyes to fly open. She sent a pray out that Cassius would not wake, then popped from her prone position within her own pile of hay.

The intruders, both with dark hair and eyes and swarthy skin, gazed intently at her. The man was perhaps the most beautiful she had ever seen. If she had not been so in love with her own husband, the mere sight of him might have caused her to fall instantly in love with this stranger who regarded her with a calm look of almost complete disregard. The younger one, who's muscle had not quite filled out his height yet, stared at her in open mouth horror.

"Ela?" he stammered. The color of his face paled beneath the dark wavy locks that fell across his forehead. "No. Bavol-engro. Beng!" He rambled, his voice becoming fiercer. "You are dead! You are not she! Be gone witch! Leave me, ghost!"

"Raj!" exclaimed the elder boy, grasping his young partner by the shoulders. "She is no ghost. She is real. Calm yoursel'! Tell him woman! Quick, before the sight o' you frightens him to death!"

But Elaine could not speak. She stared helplessly at the young boy. Cassius, who had awakened to young Raj's screaming, was the next to speak.

"Who the bloody hell are you two?" he demanded groggily. He, obviously, was not a morning person. His mornings had not boded well since he had woken up in the screaming princess's bed, and now the young boy was screeching at the top of his lungs. It simply would not do.

"Apparently, the best question to 'ave answered 'ere is who exactly is that lady over there!" Camlo seemed as if he would be enjoying this scene if it weren't for the extreme agitation of his young friend.

Elaine seemed to have found her tongue, and with her first proffered words, Raj's shouting stopped. "Rajco?" she asked silently. Though she knew the answer to her question could not be in the affirmative, she dared enough to ask. "It cannot be you. I watched you die! I held you while you bled!"

Cassius looked dispassionately towards the ceiling of the barn and fell roughly back into the hay, heaving a deep sigh. "Not a damned reunion!"

"Not I! I did not die. You were taken! Slaughtered by your mother's men!" Color had returned to the boy's face and pulled his shoulder's from Camlo's grip.

"No! I was not! The men came and killed the entire camp. I fled…" She closed her eyes and held back the memory. But the scene that should have been faded with age was fresh from her nightmares of two nights ago, and they flooded in as if she had never constructed any sort of wall against them.

Suddenly, she was wrapped in a gangly pair of arms that completely knocked her over. "Ela, my sister, we all thought you dead! Everyone else was. Except for Camlo and Harman. Harman did not last a week though. And I've got scars from the arrows, Ela. And Camlo too. But he was not hurt very badly at all, and helped me get back my strength!" Raj sat up and gave Elaine room to breath and sit up herself. The lounging Cassius and semi amused Camlo were entirely forgotten as she looked into the very much alive countenance of her adopted brother. He was grinning from ear to ear, and it was infectious. She grinned too, and decided it was her turn to wrap her arms around the boy. After squeezing the breath out of him, she stood with him and turned to face the forgotten man standing in the barn doorway.

"Could you close the door Camlo? It is horribly chilly out there and I know you do not wish to be caught in the act of stealing whatever it is you were planning on stealing."

He smiled a devastatingly handsome smile and shoved the door shut behind him without even turning around. She smiled back as she advanced quickly on him and wrapped him too in a hug. "It is so good to see you," she said. "And alive too!" She laughed with all the joy she felt in her body and he pulled her from him.

"That is most certainly not the way you felt towards me last time we met." His smile was mischievous. Camlo certainly remembered, and he was sure that Elaine, Ela as his people had always called her, did also. They had both been seventeen, and the young gypsy boy had always had a crush on the dark haired beauty that had taken to traveling with his clan. She had been shy though, and aloof, and seemed to like no one but the young boy Rajco and his widowed mother. She had had a strange fascination with stories; listening to them, telling them, creating them. She never seemed to even notice the handsome boy that strutted proudly whenever she was near. That day, he had tried to kiss her, and she had acted as if she'd never had a clue as to his desire for her. She had been affronted, offended, and completely shocked. She had slapped him across the cheek, and then slapped him across the other cheek when he ducked his head to kiss her again. Not willing to suffer yet another indignity upon his person, Camlo stalked into the woods, an action which very likely saved his life.


End file.
